


Past Imperfect

by Writerleft



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Fatherhood, Gen, History, Married Life, air nomads - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerleft/pseuds/Writerleft
Summary: Avatar Aang sets out to rebuild this treasured culture... but how much did he really know about them?
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 119





	Past Imperfect

Aang stood in the corner of the newly-built central temple, as air acolytes carried crate after crate into the library. Bumi and Kya were cavorting about outside, while Katara held little Tenzin in one arm and directed the acolytes with her other. 

“If the corner for the Southern Air Temple books is full, put more in the Western area. Not as much survived from there. No, no! That central pile is for documents we got from collectors! We’ll sort through all of it later, but for now it’s important to know where it was from!” 

“But, Lady Katara,” the lead acolyte said, “I’ve looked through many of the documents from all four temples. There’s writing from the same author from each of the temples--shouldn’t we start to compile teachings as we go?” 

“No, no we can’t do that, because…” Katara blinked, then turned to Aang. “Why _are_ we filing them this way again, dear?” 

Aang sighed. “Because we were nomads. The wisest among us would move from temple to temple across their lives. It was a mark of the highest esteem for a Master’s teachings to be housed in all four temples. To consolidate it all in one place…” 

Katara stepped over to him, raising a hand up to his shoulder. “Honey… it just makes sense to have it all here, now, instead of out there in the ruins, exposed to the elements, and treasure hunters, and who knows who else?” 

He shook his head. “I know, I know. It’s just… it’s like losing another piece of my culture. Instead of venturing across the world, ruminating upon what I’ve learned after reading an ancient holy text I’ll just… walk across the room.”

Tenzin began to fuss in Katara’s arms. 

“See? He doesn’t like the idea either.” 

Katara chuckled. “His uncle would say it’s more convenient, at least. And Sokka’s done a wonderful job tracking down old airbender documents on the market.” 

“Sokka probably thinks having everything in one place is better.” 

“He _is_ the guy who took us on a vacation to a library. And got us kicked out.” 

Aang chuckled, but the air fled out of it as he looked again into the repository of all remaining Air Nomad knowledge and culture. “It just seems so… fragile. What if something happens to this building? What if--”

Tenzin’s fussing escalated into crying outright. At once, Aang hunched down to check on him, caressing his face. 

“We’ll have the acolytes make copies,” Katara said. “We want to rebuild all the temples, after all--rebuilding their libraries is important, too. As the old Temples get rebuilt, we’ll send back the original texts, and keep copies here. That’ll give the benefits of both, won’t it?” 

Aang’s fingers quieted Tenzin’s worry, just as Katara’s words quieted Aang’s. “That’s a brilliant idea.” 

“What can I say? I’m a brilliant woman,” she smiled. 

* * *

Aang had always learned by doing. Occasionally, by listening. As a child, the thought of reading page after page, scroll after scroll had been something he’d thought he could just push off until adulthood. Which, after a fashion, was what had happened, with an unexpected century in between. 

Concentrating on the ancient words on each page was simultaneously one of his most important, sacred duties, and something he absolutely, constitutionally hated. Monk Gyatso had always managed to make his lessons relatable and fun, but these monks and nuns and mystics and gurus were, every last one of them, as dry and dusty as the paper that held their words. He’d read and read and read, fall asleep, go cross-eyed, clean his fingernails, fall off his chair when he nodded off again, check the time, and realize only twenty minutes had passed. 

If it had been anything else, he’d have made excuses, found a way around reading, had somebody else do it for him. But this was the legacy of _his_ people. So much of his heritage he’d never had the chance to learn, but nobody else in the world even knew as much as he did. If he didn’t dedicate himself to bringing his culture back, to understanding it and teaching it to his family and the air acolytes and anyone else who’d listen, then his people would be as lost to history as Won Shi Tong’s library. 

For the memory of his people--to make them _more_ than a memory--he’d do anything he had to. 

...no more than two hours per day. 

He had to maintain his sanity--and his eyesight. And besides, after dinner was his time with Tenzin.

* * *

First, the writings of Nun Tiangli -- the oldest Air Nomad elder whose writings had survived in all four Temples. The writing was a little archaic, but it was amazing how stable language had been for the last few thousand years. 

According to Tiangli, the remote locations of the Air Temples was no mistake. Life among the other people of the world caused distraction from the ultimate goal of enlightenment. She wrote that too many outside influences would corrupt Air Nomad teachings, citing the degradation and ultimate destruction of a fifth Air Temple some 1200 years prior--

“DAAAAD!”

Aang smiled, gently holding the scroll down in case Bumi’s incoming antics jostled the table. A shape sailed through the window, landing with a _thud_ on the carpet behind him. “That’s an impressive jump, Bumi! But what did I say about playing in this room in particular?” 

“I’m not playing, Dad! Something happened” 

Aang turned, straightening--he was nearly Bumi’s eye level while sitting on the floor pillow. “What’s that?” 

“Some fishermen came ashore--they say their boat is broken or something. I said I’d come and get help, but before I could do anything else Kya invited them to dinner!” 

“I see. Well, we can’t make a liar out of Kya, can we? We must always be true to our word.” 

“So… if I told them you were going to go Avatar State and make an ice boat for me to sail them back to shore, you’d have to do it?” 

Aang chuckled -- best to nip this line of thought in the bud. “We also must make sure to make reasonable promises. If your promises are outlandish, you set people up for disappointment.” 

“That’s no fun!” Bumi pouted. “What if you just did the outlandish things you say?” 

Aang further-mussed Bumi’s always-unruly hair. “We’ll talk about that later. Let’s go tell Katara about our guests.” 

“It’s been forever since we’ve had guests!” Bumi said. “The island gets so _boring_!” 

“The solitude is safer, Bumi. From here, we can oversee the city, even visit as needed, but still focus on the work of putting our people back together.” 

“All five of us?” Bumi asked. “We’re never gonna be a whole country again if we stay out here on this crummy island!” 

“Oh, it’s not so bad as that, is it? Besides, we’ve got the acolytes--”

“They’re grownups, dad! They’re _all_ grownups! Are me and Kya suppose’ta wait a few years for Tenzin to get old enough to play with?”

Aang stroked his beard--he’d thought the kids were having a great time with the whole island as their personal playground. “Air Nomad teachings did favor remoteness, son. Nun Tiangli here wrote that enlightenment comes after removing yourself from distraction.” 

“Well… I’m too young for enlightenment,” Bumi said, crossing his arms. “And what good would it be if everybody here got all englighted and nobody out there even knew about it?” 

What could Aang do but grin. “You make a compelling argument, young master Bumi. But come, now. Let’s go talk to your mother.” 

* * *

Guru Laghima was Aang’s favorite of the old voices he’d read so far. He’d gone through the extra effort to compose his wisdom in verse, beautiful imagery that captured the remote, peaceful sensation of the Northern Air Temple just as Aang had remembered it. His philosophy, too, reminded him of some of the more stoic masters of his own youth--constantly meditating, detaching himself from pleasure and desire and--according to his final writings from the Northern Air Temple--from the grip of gravity itself. 

Aang laughed at gravity, but he’d never actually _escaped_ it! What would that even be like? 

“Honey?” Katara said, placing a warm cup of ginseng tea beside him and picking up his untouched cold one. “You have a far away look. You make a breakthrough?” 

Aang’s heart thumped in his chest. When he was still, when he really let himself see her, a look from his wife made him feel weightless--maybe he understood what Laghima felt after all. 

Of course, this was exactly what Laghima said he’d have to abandon. It had been hard enough detaching himself from concern for her, all those years ago beneath Ba Sing Se, and that was for but a moment. To detach himself entirely? 

He wouldn’t give up his people’s philosophy in order to kill Phoenix King Ozai, but this… this was a step too far. 

Of course, none of the other old Masters had ever managed Laghima’s feat, either--so perhaps it was a step too far for all of them, too. 

“I think I did,” Aang finally answered, taking her hand. He couldn’t rebuild a nation by isolating himself, after all. The masters couldn’t _all_ be right. “I think I’m done for the night--what are the kids up to?” 

* * *

Guru Maukit was an esteemed moral authority, referenced by dozens of other famous Masters. Only half of Maukit’s writings survived--they were some of the oldest and most priceless documents he had, and Aang suspected they were themselves copies, given how old they were. Maukit had founded the Western Air Temple, after all! 

Much of what he wrote, too, was common sense. The sanctity of life as justification for not consuming the flesh of any animal. A lengthy rumination on the difficulty but necessity of non-violence, even in the face of aggression. Guided meditations, discussion of chakras, the balance between the physical and spiritual realms and how to commune with spirits themselves. 

But there were some passages that Aang… hadn’t expected. Eschewing pleasure, not simply as a distraction from inner peace, but as a sin in and of itself. Lengthy passages about the proper roles for men and women that he knew Katara would grind her teeth over. The necessity of separating society by gender, to prevent temptation. And if such temptation should occur regardless… 

A gentle knock came at the door frame “Dad?” Kya asked. 

Aang put his frown away, turning to look at her. “Yeah, Kya?” 

“Can we…” She twisted her toe on the ground, not meeting his gaze. “Can we talk a minute?” 

“Of course,” he said, motioning her over. 

Kya strode across the room gracefully, pulling out a pillow of her own to sit on. “Um… I guess… maybe I have questions about what the Air Nomads thought about something.” 

Kya was nearly a teen, and had all the fire and confidence her mother ever had. For her to be so unsure… She had Aang’s full attention. “I’ll answer as best as I can, of course. What are you wondering about?” 

“I was wondering about… what if…” She chewed her lip for a moment, took a breath, then continued. “I have this friend. This girl. Anniko.” 

“Your friend Anni?” 

“Yeah, her. And I… well I found out… we were talking, and she said she likes girls. And I said, well of course, girls are great, we’re so pretty and fierce and mature, but she meant…” 

“Anni likes girls instead of boys?” 

“At least as much, I guess. I’d… I’d never heard of anything like that before. But girls really _are_ so pretty and… well, what _would_ the Air Nomads have thought? I know… Mom says, down South, people are okay with it but nobody _talks_ about it, which doesn’t sound like they really approve to me. She said the North is--” Kya’s voice cracked; she tried to cover it with a smile. “--even worse. So--”

“The airbenders were fine with it,” Aang said. 

“They were?” 

“Of course!” Aang said. “I guarantee it, Kya, one-hundred percent.”

Kya beamed.

“They believed in love,” Aang continued, “in being true to yourself. If you--or anyone--really loves somebody else, if those two people both love each other, well, it’s in the spirit of our element not to get in the way. Come to think of it, there were a couple of monks that I never thought about much, but looking back they certainly behaved like husbands--everybody loved those two.”

Kya was crying. Kya was smiling. “So if I… if I were to have a girlfriend…”

“I’d be overjoyed to meet her,” Aang said. “So would your mom.” 

Kya launched into him, tackling him into a hug. “I knew the Air Nomads were smart! Thank you!” 

Aang hugged her back, chuckling, holding his smile still. “So, will we be having a dinner guest soon?”

“Um… I’ll let you know,” Kya said, blushing. She kissed his cheek, then stood, straightening her robes. “Thanks, Dad. Hearing that the Air Nomads were more enlightened than some modern cultures really means a lot to me.” 

“It means a lot to me, too,” Aang said. 

Kya grinned, and turned, and all but skipped out of the room, though she was far too old and dignified for such a childish display. 

Aang smiled, and sighed, and turned back to the writings of Guru Maukit. 

So much of the esteemed Master’s writing had already been lost… So much of his culture could never be recovered…

But what was it, in life, in rebuilding his world, that really mattered? 

The ancient paper burned quite quickly, and the ashes scattered just as fast, dancing in the wind as he blew them outside. 

**Author's Note:**

> Compatible with my [_Comes Marching Home_ ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/593860)stories, but not really structurally within that frame. Really, this is more my response to Kya in Turf Wars, and how it feels like maybe the Air Nomads get oversanitized in canon. What do ya'll think? 


End file.
